Why workplaces should rethink professionalism

My comfort level with younger colleagues? Or was I simply disrupting a rigid, inherited model of professionalism that looked and sounded like colonial leftovers pressed into dress codes, enforced in silence, and sugar-coated with titles?

Because let’s be honest, so much of what we were taught to believe is “professional” in African workplaces wasn’t built for us.

For years, professionalism has been equated with starched shirts in unbearable heat, English spoken in a specific accent, reverence for titles over people, and a strange demand to separate the personal from the professional, as if we don’t bring our full selves into every room we enter.

Somewhere along the way, following rules began to matter more than respecting people. We confused conformity with competence. We elevated performance over presence.

Too often, the idea of “professionalism” is used as a polite muzzle. We label someone “unprofessional” when they speak with passion, wear braids to a client meeting, or say no to unreasonable weekend demands.

We shudder when someone cries at work or dares to laugh a little too loudly. We’re told to lower our voices, shrink our personalities, and conform to corporate expectations.

And yet, those who disrupt the script, you know the loud laughers, the question-askers, the Sunday-rest defenders, are often the most engaged, emotionally intelligent, and invested in building a better workplace.

They bring colour into the boardroom, life into tired agendas, and humanity into metrics-driven spaces. Why, then, are they punished for showing up as their full selves.

Real professionalism

Real professionalism has never been about whether your socks match your belt. It is about respect for people’s time, energy, culture, and dignity.

It is about accountability which translates to owning your work and your impact. It is about integrity and doing the right thing when no one is watching. And above all, it is about clarity and communicating expectations without weaponising tone or tradition.

Yet, we continue to treat surface-level polish as substance. We let toxic managers shout at meetings but label a young woman’s confidence as “attitude.” We let executives gatekeep information and opportunities but frown when an intern asks to lead a project.

We tell women to dress modestly and speak softly while looking away when male leaders drink a little too much at the staff retreat. The hypocrisy isn’t even subtle anymore it’s structural.

Which brings me to the politics of respectability, especially for young professionals. From early on, we are taught to tone ourselves down to be taken seriously.

Women in particular, are told to smile without being flirtatious, dress well but not “distract,” and never, ever seem too emotional unless you’re a senior leader, then crying becomes wisdom in motion. You start learning how to manage perception before you even understand your own boundaries.

But what if we stopped forcing professionalism to look like pretence, what if we built workplaces rooted in cultural relevance, not imported rigidity? What if African professionalism looked like Kiswahili in the boardroom without shame? What if we embraced empathy as a leadership strategy, not a liability? What if wearing African attire to pitch decks felt powerful, not “under-dressed”? What if we allowed space for storytelling, music, emotion—and still hit our KPIs?

Professionalism shouldn’t feel like a chokehold. It should feel like scaffolding and supporting us as we stand tall in our authenticity, our cultures, and our creativity.

The shift starts with you

If you’re in HR or leadership, the shift starts with you. Review the dress codes by asking yourself who they exclude and why. Encourage communication in a language people can fully express themselves in, as long as meaning isn’t lost.

Train managers on emotional intelligence, not just performance metrics and above all, model authenticity yourself. You don’t have to overshare at every town hall, but your team should see that you, too, are human.

To the young professionals blazing a new trail, keep going. To the intern who wears bright lipstick unapologetically, to the millennial who refuses to be called “girl” at work despite being a grown woman with a mortgage, don’t dim your light. You’re not “too much.” You’re the reset button this outdated system needs.

Professionalism must evolve. It cannot remain a colonial costume we keep dragging into every meeting. The future of work in Africa will not be built on imported models. It will be built on values that honour both excellence and identity, both discipline and dignity.

So yes, you can tuck in your shirt if you want. Or you can leave it out, roll up your sleeves, and do excellent work anyway. Just don’t confuse looking the part with being the part. Because true professionalism isn’t about appearances, it’s about presence, purpose, and people.

The writer is a people & vulture leader with deep expertise in humanitarian and NGO.